I'll Save You
by blynrin
Summary: Castiel notices the visual bond he has with Dean, the (broken and empty) Righteous Man, and when he has a chance to change their lives and screws it up he has to fix it in the only way he can see fit; taking every suffering from Dean and transferring it to himself. Pretty much just a really emotional fic, my first, so please don't be mean because I suck at summaries.


_Help. _

Castiel heard, more than felt, Dean's desperation.

_Don't leave me alone._

He was shot with it again. It was something the angel was familiar with, the loneliness. It was more than an emotion. It was a fear grounded deep into the very core of the hunter's soul, an apprehension that was rooted into him since that night Azazel murdered Mary Winchester. The pain and uncertainty had only been embedded more each lonely night the older boy had stayed up watching over his Sammy, gun loaded and waiting for the moment his father would return. Years of chasing the yellow eyed demon and taking care of his brother had left Dean feeling undeserving.

Sometimes, it seemed like he did nothing for himself. No action was in favor of Dean; not even chasing after women was what he desired, deep down. He just kept going through the motions, continuing the fight.

Dean longed for nothing more than to be loved, to have a family and reassurance that someone could accept him for the hollow shell that he was.

Cas knew Dean was broken; he'd known it for a long time. He broke long before Castiel pulled him out of hell, before he'd gotten off the rack and taken up the knife. That night at BIGGERSON'S! only confirmed it, when Famine had stretched a hand to the man's chest- while Jimmy Novak's hunger for meat consumed Castiel- and declared it to the entire room that The Righteous Man had a big fat emptiness hollowing out his soul. His time in hell had carved him out for good, but he'd slowly been emptying for years before. No amount of healing could take those experiences away from Dean.

He stood across from the eldest Winchester in the hotel room he shared with his little brother, Castiel watching over the hunters while they slept, eyebrows pushed down over his eyes and lips pursed in a thin line.

When Castiel had reached down and pulled Michael's vessel from Hell, his handprint had been left as a brand on the hunter's skin. It had seared the flesh and was clear as day; Castiel rescued Dean from the Pit. The inevitable side effect was shown to Castiel, reminding him why no other angel, in the end, had dared to do what he had. The line of light that connected himself with the hunter wasn't visible to anyone but Cas, and only on occasion. It was a reminder that he had linked his grace in with the man's soul, connecting him to Dean in a way he couldn't have fathomed in his entire existence.

Every contrition, every aim and purpose within the hunter pulsed through to him as Dean slept. Through the bond, he knew Dean was fighting nightmares and losing horribly. Cas wanted nothing more than to go over and heal him from every wrongdoing but he knew that there was nothing he could do to ease Dean's pain without taking all his memories out. And even then, Dean would be troubled. If he continued in this lifestyle with no memories, he'd die easily. And there was no way to stop him from hunting, that much was proven. The Winchester always resorted to it, as if it were second nature. He supposed it must be, as much as breathing or eating. So Castiel simply eased Dean into a deeper sleep so the night terrors couldn't reach him. After, he stood by the wall and watched over the pair. The hours ticked by easily for the centuries old angel as he did nothing more but play the guardian role so many humans thought angels did.

When the two woke to a figure standing in their room, they immediately reacted as they always did when Castiel 'snuck' up on them. A gun pointed at him and then quickly put down; the normal routine, followed by the "dammit Cas!" and the two brothers grudgingly getting out of bed.

Castiel only tipped his head to the side in his usual inquisitive way and watched Dean intently as he took out a beer immediately after waking.

"Isn't it too early to consume alcoholic beverages?" he asked, curious, but by now, he realized, he should be used to the man's odd behavior.

"Never too early for beer, Cas." Dean replied, offering a smirk as his brother rolled his eyes and set off to get them breakfast. "So," the hunter drawled, looking at Castiel and taking a swig as he switched on the laptop, "what's the news?"

"News?" The word left his lips uncertainly, as if it were foreign, his voice of gravel wrapping around the sound.

"Well, yeah. You usually don't just show up out of nowhere unless it's for a reason, y'know." The hunter replied, his voice sure and lazy. When he wasn't offered a reply, Dean sighed and returned his attention to the laptop. Castiel, feeling he was inessential, left with a beating of his wings.

It was almost a week later when Castiel returned to the Winchesters as an answer to their prayers. The light that stretched from Dean's chest to Castiel's took longer to disappear than it usually did when he showed up that evening. Without much time to ponder the reason behind it, the angel tucked away the thoughts and emotions tugging at his mind, demanding his attention from Dean's direction and instead focused on the younger man. "Yes?" he asked, a few seconds after he popped into view. By the annoyed expressions on their faces, Castiel came to the conclusion that he was later than they wanted. "What is it?"

The favor they asked him was simple, for an angel. It took him barely ten minutes to return with the few supplies he was asked to retrieve, and when he finished he stood by to watch the makings of a simple summoning spell.

By the end of the day both brothers were worn out and too tired to do much but stumble to their hotel room, bloodied and bruised after the job. Both were very touchy, and he suspected it had something to do with the fact that the demon, though powerful, did not have the information they needed, and by bringing it to this quiant town they had caused all sorts of trouble. Castiel returned when they settled into sleep and again watched over them that night, but this time he left as the two started to stir before he could startle them again.

The emotions that flooded Castiel were overwhelmingly desperate. The angel was nearly knocked off his feet and could barely make it to Dean in time before he lost all ability to do anything as difficult as walk or fly. When he came to his human's side, it was in a motel room. The man himself was sitting alone at the table. Sam was gone and there was no apparent reason for the onslaught of pain.

"Dean," he gasped, gripping the back of a chair as the hunter looked up in surprise at the sudden appearance of the trenchcoat wearing angel.

"Cas, what are you-" he barely got out before Castiel threw a hand over Dean's eyes just in time. Dean was too vulnerable at a time like this to have been startled by Castiel. The still visible line of thread that symbolized their bond rippled as the silent thrum of adrenaline filtered across, causing the explosion.

It wasn't exactly an explosion by human standards. More like a blast of angelic grace.

Light burst out of Castiel, blindingly beautiful as he shielded his human's eyes from the severity of it until finally it stilled, filtering out of the air and dissipating into the room around them, back into the angel tucked neatly into Jimmy Novak's body.

Slowly, his hand fell, revealing Dean's green eyes as they stared into him, questioning. The pain that had originally brought his angel to his side was pushed down again, forgotten, as Dean tried to figure out what exactly had happened.

Cas had no answer. How could he explain the connection that had brought him here, and his reasons for being so affected by everything the hunter felt? He didn't know exactly what to make of it all; Dean's need for vindication of his sins seemed to be the main factor that made Castiel's head spin. He felt Dean had done more than enough for this world and his family. Instead of offering anything in way of an answer, he placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and shook his head.

As soon as the angel placed a gentle hand on Dean's skin, accidentally fitting it exactly onto the handprint, fingers lined up exactly where they fit, the link flared up. It became visible to Cas again, and by the sudden jolt of confusion, he concluded that Dean could see it as well.

The hunter reared back in surprise, watching the line of light stretch as he did so. It wasn't white to him, nothing that could be perceived by normal human senses. It was simply just... Pure, radiant light. Cautiously, Dean raised a finger and strummed it, eliciting a strange noise from Cas. Blue eyes met green as Castiel desperately tried to figure out what this meant. Why could the hunter not only see it but also _feel_ it, both in his soul where it was so obviously attached, and physically with his skin?

As if it were a shiny object and Dean a toddler, the hunter reached up and fingered the chord again. Before he could touch the thread again, though, and make Cas do something he would so blatantly regret, Castiel bit his lip and moved out of reach, removing his hand in the process. As soon as he did he could feel Dean's disappointment course through to him, and something much stronger. It was dangerous, what they were playing with, and they both felt the urge to continue, to explore, to finish this connection of Cas's grace and Dean's soul. It was such a palpable thing between them, and he wanted to continue this... binding ritual.

Yet Castiel was afraid. He knew Dean was, as well, yet it hung in the air between them, between their lips that were so close together. It was malleable, able to take form to whatever they decided.

Cas closed his eyes, stepped away, and disappeared from the room.

It was almost a month before Castiel finally answered Sam's desperate prayers. The younger brother was worried about the two of them; Cas for not ever showing up or being around and Dean for... Well, when _wasn't_ there a reason to worry about him?

The link had seemed weaker than ever to Castiel, scaring him, and his theory as to why was confirmed when he showed up at Bobby's that evening. Dean was in his room upstairs, covered from chin to toe in a large black blanket. He stared with glassy green eyes at the wall and Cas frowned, guilt, anxiety, and worry slicing through him.

After feeling the bond once, having it taken away from Dean devastated the man. He looked gaunt, his cheeks sunken and it was only after Castiel was told that he had not been eating did he realize Dean _literally_ couldn't feel the bond anymore. It had been out in the open, waiting for Castiel to bind them, connect them in a way he didn't know, but which felt so natural. When Cas left, it broke the link and he took it with him. Dean hadn't noticed it before he'd seen it, but now that it was gone from him it was as if a part of his soul had been removed. Which, Cas supposed, is what actually happened when the angel's grace had been pulled out with the link. Because that's what must have happened. After Dean had become so vulnerable, the chord out in the open, the angel had just disappeared. He realized then that instead of vanishing, he should have strode down the other path no matter the fear he felt of trodding into unknown territory. Unknown _emotional_ territory, because Castiel has been nearly everywhere on this earth. He's been to heaven, hell, and all the places in between. He had flown away because he'd been afraid, and now the hunter was suffering the consequences. Castiel had inflicted this upon his human.

He tried a healing touch to the forehead, which removed the sunken look and almost transparent skin. But there was still an emptiness in the hunter's gaze that squeezed something within Castiel's chest. "Come on Dean, let's get you cleaned up," he mumbled. Pulling Dean out of the bed, he moved him into the bathroom and turned the shower on. The man went through the mechanical motions of getting undressed, obviously not caring that Cas was in the room as he stripped down to his boxers. The hot stream of water seemed to pull the haze from his eyes and he sighed, tilting his face into the spray. Castiel looked away as he showered, moving out of the bathroom.

He sent Sam and Bobby off for a while as he returned to the room, Dean laying on the ground staring up at the ceiling. He was covered only in his boxers, still, the towel he'd tried to dry himself off with used as a blanket beneath him. Castiel crouched next to his hunter and took his face in his hands.

He knew what must be done. The emptiness that had filled the bond's place must be either replaced or removed entirely.

Castiel knew there was no way to fill the chord's absence.

Once such a profound connection was taken away, there was no replacing it. The ability to create a link like that with someone is rare enough, and nearly impossible to do twice. Even trying could harm Dean more than it already had, maybe even kill him.

But he couldn't just go in and remove that one point of pain from Dean. The bond had been linked to the man's soul, intertwined into his very being.

Castiel leaned forward, placing his hand on the back of the hunter's neck and brought their faces together. The angel's other hand came up to his forehead, placing two fingers above Dean's glazed green eyes as their mouths met.

The kiss was chaste, just a brush against the hunter's full lips. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, feeling himself enter the human's mind. He weaved around the delicate memories and stopped when he came to a wall of agony. Slowly he tugged at it, pulling it to himself and sucking it slowly from Dean's mind. He could feel the hunter becoming aware of his presence and intentions, but though he protested and tried to shut Cas out, he was powerless to stop him. The wall collapsed, and everything locked behind it transferred slowly from Dean to Cas, starting first as a slow burn, small tides of molten lava washing around his toes as he stood on the ocean of the hunter's mind. Then suddenly it was like a tidal wave of raw hurt washed over him, burning, searing him. All he could hear was the emotions crashing around him and Dean's fear screaming at him helplessly,

_DON'T LEAVE ME._

_CASTIEL,_

_Please,_

_I need you, don't leave me._

_Everyone always leaves._

Castiel gasped and pulled back, having drawn everything he could from Dean, but the sheer force of the emotions drove Castiel to his hands and knees.

He gasped as he realized that they were now _his_ emotions.

Sobs began to wrack his frame before he even realized he was crying, heart wrenching wails he could barely hear over the sound of his shame, over the pain and suffering. Not _his,_ he remembered, but Dean's. All these negative feelings pooled up inside of him, the confusion, the guilt, the anger.

How could the hunter go through day after day without wearing himself thin? Without crying himself to sleep every night? How could he live as a mask, smiling, laughing, joking as the turmoil boiled in his mind on a daily basis? How did Dean survive with all of this bunched up inside of him, horrible, so horrible, from such a young age. It _hurt,_ like he was splitting into pieces, his mind separating from his body, his skeleton slipping from the skin of his vessel. It felt as if his true form were breaking down, reduced to nothing but a pile of flesh and bones and muscles and he could feel the _humanity_ of it, and it drove home how much they had all suffered. And for what? A world that was not worth saving, a world that should burn and crash and wither into atoms, a world he loved so _dearly._ This was his _home, _his ward, the one thing he knows he should protect, because this world has humans on it, and within those humans are the Winchesters, his family, his home.

Slowly he could feel strong arms around him, rubbing his back and trying to comfort him. Castiel desperately turned into his hunter's embrace and soaked the man's chest with tears. "Shh... I know, Cas... I know," he heard in that timbre of a voice and it made him cry even more to think that Dean was comforting Castiel for the man's own emotions, for the buildup and reactions his (his soul, yes, the angel had a soul, he could see it now) was having to it. "I know," he said, because he did. He'd had to live for years with all of this pent up inside of him, but he couldn't see it the way Cas now could.

Again Castiel wailed, because _his hunter_ had been strong enough to contain this within him all these years, because Castiel knew why he did the things he did, and Castiel could do nothing but ask "_why?" _over and over again.

"Dammit, Cas. Shh, I'm here," he murmured again.

He didn't say "it'll be okay," because those words are empty, and they both knew that nothing is ever okay.

So the angel's vessel just shakes violently as he sobs ever harder, curled up in the safety (never safe, only ever safe here) of Dean's arms as the room fills up with the sounds of agony and Castiel drowns in Dean's ocean of lava.


End file.
